When Keith
Moon died on September 7, 1978, The Who were left without the driving force of
their rhythm section, a larger-than-life drummer whose thunderous approach on
the kit defined the band’s sound and changed the course of rock drumming. Even
with this blow, guitarist and principal songwriter Pete Townshend announced the
next day that the band “is more determined than ever to carry on.” They’d
already signed deals for several projects and would soon be under contract to
deliver albums to the label, the first of which would be Face Dances, featuring
new recruits Kenney Jones on drums and John “Rabbit” Bundrick on keyboards.
But The Who’s
first project following Moon’s untimely death wasn’t a forward-looking studio
effort, but a pair of retrospectives: the Jeff Stein documentary The Kids Are
Alright, which served somewhat as a tribute to Moon-era Who; and the film
adaptation of Quadrophenia, itself based on an album that looked back on the
band’s first decade, produced by bassist John Entwistle. The band was set to
promote the projects with large-scale tours and had brought on ex-Faces drummer
Jones to replace Moon.
“I thought
that the best thing I could do was to play the way I play. That’s being
honest,” Jones reflected decades later. “I tried to take the best of Keith
Moon—all his great fills, which you have to do in certain songs—and use them
selectively. But the style would finally be me. And that’s all I could do. I
couldn’t do no more.”
Jones’ first
studio recordings with the band were “Get Out and Stay Out,” a Quadrophenia
outtake resurrected for the soundtrack, and “Joker James,” originally written
in 1968. Though it was no easy task, Jones gelled with the band and with nearly
constant tour dates stretching from spring of 1979 to summer of 1980—not to
mention appearances with the other members of The Who on vocalist Roger
Daltrey’s McVicar soundtrack project—he became integrated into a new well-oiled
machine: The Who, mk. 2.
Sessions with
Szymczyk—whose credits included Michael Stanley, Eagles and the J. Geils
Band—were bumpy, as The Who felt the spark fading with each take. As Entwistle
recalled, “He recorded everything in groups of three. I don’t like playing a
backing track too many times. We’d get a really good one and he’d say, ‘Give me
three more exactly the same.’ I lost a lot of confidence worrying about being
brainwashed by the song, so I didn’t play as loosely as I might have.” And any
momentum was stalled by more tour dates and Szymczyk’s commitment to mixing
Eagles Live. Tracking for Face Dances continued at the end of the year and the
band was pleased with what it played.
But final
mixing was carried out by Szymczyk in Florida without the full band’s input,
which led to unsatisfactory, glossy results. While the band blamed each other
for what they felt was sub-par material, the album, released on March 16, 1981,
was nevertheless successful. It peaked at #4 on the Billboard Albums Chart, hit
#2 in the UK, and reached Platinum status by the fall of 1981.
While the
magic of the Moon era might be missing in many spots, Face Dances still
satisfies, with Daltrey delivering some fine interpretations of Townshend’s
increasingly personal lyrics. And its sound, which lies somewhere between
classic Who power-pop (“Daily Records”), punk (“Cache Cache”) and Police-like
rhythms (“Don’t Let Go the Coat,” “Did You Steal My Money”), managed to reach
audiences worldwide.
The
flirtatious pop gem “You Better You Bet” was an early MTV staple and became the
band’s last Billboard Top 20 single, featuring Entwistle’s self-referential
“The Quiet One” on its B-side. In the U.K., the band appeared on the BBC’s Top
of the Pops to promote the single. There, it reached #9. The breezy “Don’t Let
Go The Coat,” inspired by Townshend’s spiritual mentor Meher Baba, peaked at
#84. Meanwhile, “Another Tricky Day” became a live staple for decades.
In all, Face
Dances sees every member of The Who pouring all their energy into their music.
In the fallout of Moon’s death, they were overwhelmed—not just by the tragedy
of losing a friend and core member of the group, but also by a grueling tour
schedule, continuous side projects and a variety of personal issues. Somehow,
they were able to direct all this energy into a fine studio effort that
explores new and varied styles. It may not have hit the heights of their past
glories, with the occasional belabored performance and a certain studio sheen
unusual for The Who, but it was a success and is far from the worst material
The Who would scrape together.
As Townshend
and Daltrey continue to look back on their albums with in-depth reissue
campaigns (the most recent being a super-deluxe edition of 1967’s The Who Sell
Out), one wonders what a deep-dive into 1979-1981 might look like and how it
might reshape the narrative of Face Dances as a tired album. On stage, the band
was energized, and unreleased gems and jams show they still meshed. Might
revealing monitor mixes exist showing an un-futzed-with Face Dances? Or
compelling unreleased songs from Townshend’s library? Perhaps The Who will dust
off such rarities in time and give the era its due with all the bells and
whistles. Maybe it will give fans a new look at this relentlessly creative
period. Until then, Face Dances serves as a document of The Who’s somewhat
shaky reinvention just before things really crumbled.
No comments:
Post a Comment